


Sherlock Holmes and the unforgivable Potion

by NorthSol



Series: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson's years at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And various others - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hogwarts AU, Inspired by Doyle's books, Inspired by Frogware's Sherlock games, John and Sherlock are wizards, Kid!Lock, Kidlock, M/M, No Voldemort, Potterverse, Seriously it is just the magical world of J.K Rowling with Sherlock Characters, Sherlock AU, Though no Potter, and Greg and Mycroft and Anderson and Sally, so is Molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthSol/pseuds/NorthSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is just about to start his first year as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, having grown up with his muggle father and sister, it is needless to say that the young boy is very excited. On his way to the school, he meets anoher young boy with dark locks, and as John will quickly learn, this boy isn't like any other boy, even for a young wizard. </p><p>A dark rumor spreads through the halls, followed by even darker actions. As fingers start to point, Sherlock might be the only one who is truly on to something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The adventure begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic, ever, I have never read any Sherlock Pottervser fics (though I know the exist) so I have no idea how used different concepts are and I do not particularly care either.
> 
> This is planned as a series, and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing and planning it!

11 year old John felt excitement rush through him as he stared at the red train that would take him to his new school. His father, still a bit pale from having had to rush through a wall to get to the platform, had his hand on John’s shoulder. His father, Daniel Watson, swallowed heavily before turning John around so he could take a good look at his son. 

“Now, remember to be good John and to write me.”  
“Of course Dad,” John grinned, his father smiled at him.  
“Your mother would have been so proud of you right now; finally one of her children is off to that same magic school as her.” He hugged his son tight.  
“Daad,” John said as was required of a boy when a parent showed affection, but he was smiling none the less.  
“Now, you should get on board, it looks crowded in there.” His father patted his shoulder and John nodded.  
“I’ll write as soon as possible, remember it comes by owl!” John hurried over to the train and got on, turning to wave at his dad one last time before trying to maneuver through the sea of students in the train halls. Shortly after he could feel the train starting to move and the crowd got thinner as people found places to sit. John nearly groaned in frustration and was about to turn around and try the other way, just as he reached a compartment that was almost empty, except for one young boy clad in robes rimmed with green. 

John opened the door and poked his head in.  
“Mind if I take a seat?” The boy in the compartment had been staring out the window and now whipped his head around at John interrupting his peace. The boy’s black curls rustled slightly and John was met with a pair of icy blue eyes.  
“Everywhere else seems full…” He trailed off, suddenly a bit unsure.

“Please, sit,” The boy said and nodded at the bench opposite of the one he was sitting on himself. John smiled, relieved, and closed the door behind him and plumped into the seat. The boy was still looking at him with almost piercing eyes, eyes that seemed even colder due to the pale complexion of the boy.  
Not one for social awkwardness, John held out his hand.  
“I’m John Watson, first year.” He said and couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride that still lingered after the shock of having been accepted into a School for witchcraft. 

“Sherlock Holmes, also first year.” The other boy replied.  
“Really, but your robes are different than mine?” John had been too excited about putting on his uniform and had done so almost before he had left his home, his robe had come on almost the minute after they had passed through the wall as it had been bundled up in John’s arms.  
The other boy, Sherlock, frowned a bit at this and turned his head to the side.

“Is something wrong?” John prodded, afraid he had insulted the other in some way. Sherlock looked at him again, now with delicate eyebrows raised up high.  
“Why do you care?” There was disbelief in Sherlock’s voice that sounded raw.  
“Well, I wouldn’t like to upset you, I was rather hoping we could be friends!” John decided to be bold.  
“Friends?” John would have thought it impossible, but Sherlock’s eyebrows rose even higher.  
“Yes…is there something wrong with that?”  
“I…no, I suppose there isn’t,” 

John smiled widely at that, and Sherlock smiled back, well, tried to would have been a better way of putting it. The smile was very tiny, and a bit strained as if he was out of practice. John’s smile just widened and he decided to look out of the window to see how far they had gotten.  
“It’s because my family has always been in one house and they take it for granted that I will end up in the same house,” Sherlock said quietly and John quickly focused on the other again. 

“Oh, which house is that?”  
“Are you muggle borne?”  
“Muggle what…?”  
“Borne by non-magicals,” Sherlock explained almost rolling his eyes.  
“Oh, no, I mean yes, sort of? My mum was a witch but she died shortly after I was borne, my dad is non-magical, a moggel?”  
“Muggle, and that makes a bit more sense then. The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Slytherin is the house of my ancestors apparently…” Sherlock scoffed and looked to the side.  
“You don’t want to be in Slytherin?”  
“My older brother is in that house, he’s insufferable enough when we are at home, and now I have to spend school with him too? I can hardly wait till I am driven up the wall.” 

“But…if you don’t want to be in that house, can you not ask to be put in another?” John furrowed his eyebrows.  
“You do not ask for it, you are sorted into a house depending on your character, your skills and your personality.”  
“But surely, if you really do not want to, you can’t be forced? We’re not dominated by one single trait!” John insisted.  
“You mean… convince the sorting hat that I should be put somewhere else?”  
“Sorting hat? We’re sorted by a hat?”  
“John, that is brilliant! And it might work, oh I hope it works.”  
“How do a hat sort people?!”  
“It’s a magical hat, do keep up.” Sherlock huffed.  
“….I could have figured out that,” John mumbled but gave up.

“Never mind that, we have to fix my robes, I refuse to go like this. The sorting hat will surely put me in Slytherin if I look like one. But I cannot use the severing charm that precisely, I’ve never really tried it…”  
“You already know how to do magic?!” John asked, sounding awed and previous embarrassment forgotten.  
“I’ve been reading my brother’s books since he started school,” Sherlock seemed to puff himself up a little, clearly pleased with the awe and respect in John’s face.  
“That’s amazing…!”  
Sherlock smiled a smug smile but soon went back to being serious.

“That still doesn’t solve my robe problem…”  
“Well I do have a pair of scissors,” John was one of these kids that brought their pencil case with them everywhere, complete with rulers, scissors and whatever else such normal pencil cases held within them.  
“Scissors… that cold work, get them!” Sherlock wrung out of his robes and nearly jumped to John’s side of the compartment as John fished up his pencil case from one of his deeper pockets. 

 

None of them knew how much time had passed as they struggled with Sherlock’s robes and John’s scissors which was actually designed for paper and occasionally card board and plastic. A slight knock on the compartment door didn’t disturb them either, until a meek voice called out.  
“We’re soon there, everyone should put their robes on- oh, hello Sherlock.” 

John looked up and saw a young girl clad in robes rimmed with blue, and a crest on her chest with a bronze eagle. Then he looked back at Sherlock who barely acknowledged the girl.

“What are you doing to your robes?” The girl gasped and came inside the compartment, sliding the door shut behind her.  
“Fixing it, so that he won’t look like a Slytherin when he arrives, so he won’t be put in that house, because he doesn’t want to!” John rambled; the girl looked at him before looking at Sherlock again, her pony tail swishing gently against the nape of her neck.

“I can help you fix it, a little bit.” She offered and Sherlock finally looked her with a considering gaze, before wordlessly handing her his robes. From within her robes, the girl took out a slender wand. John’s eyes widened and he stared intently at the robes and the wand as the girl said something that sounded like a load of rubbish to John, and waved her wand. In front of his very eyes the robes mended, but now lacked the green rims and the Slytherin crest. 

“Well… they don’t exactly look like standard robes anymore…” She commented nervously as she held the robes out, and she was right, due to some of the material being removed, the robes look a tad too small and narrow.  
“It will do, Molly.” Sherlock said and took the robes from her hands.

“Okay…” she said, again nearly a whisper as she got up. “Well, I’ll see you later.” She exited the compartment; John shoved his elbow into Sherlock’s side.  
“What was that for?!” Sherlock hissed and scowled, surprised to see a frown on John’s face.  
“You didn’t tell her thanks even once, that was very rude you know!” 

“I’ll… tell her later…”  
“You better!”

 

It wasn’t long before the train came to a halt and John again had to swim through a sea of students that pushed and pulled throughout the halls. This time he had a slender hand in his though, guiding him through the crowd with a natural skill and grace. They slipped outside and Sherlock just dragged John along as the blond tried to start looking for his luggage.

“It’ll be taken care of for you, “Sherlock muttered and then started moving in the direction of a man shouting for the first years to gather around him. Sherlock got odd looks for his short robes, but the black haired boy didn’t seem to care and blatantly ignored them all in a fashion John would almost describe as lofty. 

“Ready?” Sherlock looked to John as they made their way to the boats that would carry them across the lake.  
“Oh yes,” John met his new friend’s eyes and the two boys grinned at each other.


	2. The sorting experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get sorted, will John's idea work?

Sherlock groaned quietly at the prospect of having to walk even further after having walked _forever_ to get from the boat house and up to the castle. John simply nudged him playfully and continued walking. But after yet another flight of stairs, even John had to grumblingly admit to the starting ache in his legs.

“This place needs escalators…” He huffed and focused on pushing one foot up another step.  
“Escalators?” Sherlock was a few steps in front of him.  
“The stairs move upwards by themselves,” John explained.  
“Brilliant, why don’t we have that?” 

A hush went through the small crowd of first years as it seemed they had finally reached their destination. A witch stood waiting for them and she really looked like a witch, John thought to himself, with a pointy hat and crooked nose. 

“Please wait here while I see to that all is ready for you,” The witch spoke up and slipped through a door leaving the new students to themselves for now. Sherlock gave a long suffering sigh that John just smiled at before looking around; it was a big hall…everything here seemed big. 

“Oi, you shouldn’t stand too close to that freak,” A voice piped up, causing John to focus again and realize that he was being talked to.  
“Excuse me?” He looked at the girl with the curly hair that now stood in front of him. She was glaring at Sherlock though that met her gaze seeming so unimpressed John thought he could feel it rolling off the other in waves. 

“This guy is a Holmes, bloody murderers and cultists they are and everyone knows it. “  
“Murderers…?” Unwillingly John took a slight step back. 

“Bribing their ways to positions of power, letting other people’s hard work be for nothing.”  
“It is not my fault the rest of you are blind idiots,” Sherlock commented coldly, making the girl sneer.  
“Everyone knows your family was involved with the Cult some years back, slimy Slytherins the lot of you, can’t expect better I suppose.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Hey, stop it!” John interrupted and stepped up, almost in front of Sherlock as if to protect him.  
“You have no right to say such things, you’re being very rude.” John continued before the girl could say anything else. “And I am fully capable to choose my own friends, thank you.” 

“I’m just giving you a fair warning; you should stay away from the Holmes.” The girl continued relentlessly.   
“You don’t get to give warnings about people you don’t know.” John replied sternly.  
The girl was about to reply, but the witch had returned and tapped her shoulder to get her back in line. 

“They are now ready to receive you.” She said and opened the large double doors.  
They walked two and two between the tables, but John didn’t have eyes for the enchanted ceiling or the floating candles, his eyes were on Sherlock.

“You okay?”  
“Yes,” was the pale boy’s reply, short and almost snappish, but he did turn his head to meet John’s darker blue eyes, offering a tiny smile that John replied to with an even bigger smile. 

They were gathered by the teacher’s table and John had to admit it was a bit unnerving to have all the teachers study you, feeling like they were trying to assess which kind of student you were then and there. He was so busy sneaking glances at the teachers and headmaster that he nearly missed when the hat placed on a stool in front of the table suddenly began to sing about the four houses. 

As John listened to the rumble of the hat, he still couldn’t figure out which house he would like to be in… mostly because he would like to be in the same house as his friend, John thought and missed when the first student was called up to the hat, Anderson something. 

The hat hadn't stayed on the kid’s head for long before it screamed, as if it was a bit rusty at this, “Hufflepuff!” startling John.  
The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly as this Anderson kid ran over, nearly tripping on his way down. Sherlock snorted and was rewarded by a glare from the kid who then promptly crashed into one of the other first years, before finally finding his seat at the Hufflepuff table, red faced. 

Soon after the girl that had insulted Sherlock was called up, “Sally Donovan,” Sherlock turned his head arrogantly, but John kept a close eye on her as the Sorting hat slipped down over her eyes.

“Hm, hrm, hm… yes I see…” The hat spoke before yelling again and John hoped the hat would calm himself by the time his turn came, it had to be even louder when you had him on your head.  
“Gryffindor!” Another table broke out in intense cheer and Sally grinned smugly as she ran over to their table. 

“Sherlock Holmes,” The witch read out from the list she held in her hands. The entire Great Hall silenced in mere seconds, people craning their necks to get a look at the younger Holmes as he stepped up after John had given his arm a reassuring squeeze. A rush of whispers slithered through the room as Sherlock reached the stool and everyone could see the sorry state of his robes.

In the crowd a pair of dark eyes followed the younger Holmes, a slight frown of disapproval on his face. Another tantrum against authority, Mycroft suspect as he took in his younger brother’s robes. Oh well, it was easily remedied. 

Sherlock sat down on the stool and the hat was put on his dark curls where it promptly went on to slide down over his icy blue eyes.  
“Aha, another Holmes,” The Hat commented aloud and John bit his lip without being quite sure as of why. 

_“Hm, just as with the others, there is great skill here, a great intellect I can sense as well, yes, and cunning as well, hmm, ooh what a great and interesting depth and thinking process, yes, hm…”_  
“Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin,”   
“Not Slytherin, you say to me? And why is that, young Holmes, like your ancestors you could do great in Slytherin,”  
“My tedious brother is in Slytherin,” 

The sorting hat suddenly laughed out loud and the students stared, why was this taking so long?  
 _“Hmm well, yes, and there is a certain lack for leadership abilities here, though that is not a strict necessity, but if you are certain Slytherin will not do, I can think of another house that would suite you well.”  
“Anything but Slytherin,”  
“As you wish, young Holmes,” _

“Ravenclaw!” The sorting hat yelled out into the quiet space and the Great Hall seemingly exploded with sound, people murmuring and gasping as Sherlock took the hat off himself and placed it back on the stool, before gracefully moving to the Ravenclaw table who finally snapped out of it and hesitantly began to clap and then clapped with more excitement as John’s ecstatic applause caught on like Sherlock had just accomplished a great feat. And in many ways, the younger Holmes had. Before he sat down, Sherlock managed to catch John’s attention, and the smile John received was heartwarming to say the least, and John smiled back in earnest. 

John was lost to his thoughts again; could he get into Ravenclaw, same as Sherlock? What was it the hat had said? The clever and the witty? John didn’t think of himself as dumb, but he doubted he was the kind of ingenious that Sherlock had displayed himself as. Someone nudged him and John snapped to, realizing that all eyes were on him and nearly all the first years had been sorted, he flushed with embarrassment and hurried to step up to the stool where the witch was holding up the sorting hat. He sat down on the stool and grabbed the edges tightly as the hat was put on his head and slid over his eyes. 

“Aha, Hannah Bellum’s son,” The hat said aloud.  
 _“John Watson, hm, much like your mother I sense, but also something more or different, hard to tell. Very loyal, very hard working, the noble traits of a Hufflepuff, oh but there is great strength and courage here, bravery and also chivalry, hmm… in that case I guess it almost goes unsaid…”_

“Gryffindor!” John blinked owlishly as the hat was taken off him and he got up on shaky legs, the Gryffindor table erupted into a wild cheer and waved John over.”  
He was perhaps a little disappointed he was not in the same house as Sherlock, but searched out Sherlock’s face in the crowd and smiled warmly anyways. 

The Headmaster stood and called for the hall to calm, which it did instantly and all eyes were on the Headmaster as the stool and hat was carried away.  
“Welcome, Students both old and new, to another year at Hogwarts, I will not keep you from the feast much longer. But I would like to inform all students that going into the forbidden forest is strictly forbidden, I and the rest of the staff would also like to tell you, that the situation we had when you all left for holiday, is under control and hopefully resolved, that is all, and now we feast.” John didn’t have time to ponder on the cryptic words of the headmaster as food appeared all over the tables; he gasped in wonder along with most of the other first years and eagerly began to fill up his plate. 

 

John was feeling a bit more than a bit full when Prefects gathered the first years of each house and led them out of the Great Hall, Sherlock lingered a bit so John could catch up to him. 

“Our dormitories lie in the same direction,” He explained at John’s quizzical look.  
“Do we have classes together, you think?” John asked with his voice laced with hope.  
“Most likely,” Sherlock nodded and John beamed at the very idea.

“Hey you two, stop lingering behind,”  
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”  
“Yes,” Sherlock just barely caught on the fact that he had probably smiled more to this blond boy that was currently waving at him before running after his fellow Gryffindor housemates, squeaking slightly and flushing in embarrassment as the stairs started to move only to slap back into place as the prefect stomped on it angrily, than he had during the past 10 years of existence. The raven haired boy looked up at a random painting, the monk depicted in it stared back and looked at Sherlock quizzically as the boy shook his head and followed after his own housemates onto the fifth floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to to have them start up their classes as well in this chapter, but it ran away with me, I blame the hat and Sally Donovan.   
> As you've probably noticed, none of the teacher's are given names. This is intentional. for several reasons.  
> Top 3 being: 
> 
> 1) This is a Potterverse fic with Sherlock characters and the only one I feel fits as a teacher is Mrs. Hudson, she will appear in due time, other than that most of the Sherlock characters are in fact students of different ages.
> 
> 2) Using names from Harry Potter would have eventually forced me to include other Potter characters,
> 
> 3) The story will mainly focus around the students, not the teachers ( I'm afraid the teachers will seem a bit incompetent at times.. it's like this most of the time in Harry Potter as well so it shouldn't be too much trouble.


	3. 5 points for your potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First class for our two freshmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta (buuu) so all mistakes are mine, sorry D:

A still tired John found his way down into the Great Hall for breakfast the following day; he had perhaps stayed up too long while writing his father his first letter. He yawned and nearly missed Sherlock waving at him from the Ravenclaw table. A bit unsure if he was actually allowed to be sitting there; John shuffled along till he was beside Sherlock who motioned at him to sit down. When no other Ravenclaw reacted, John took his chances. 

“We have double potions together,” Sherlock said once John was seated and handed him a time schedule.   
“Really?” John took the offered schedule and rubbed his eyes before taking a look.  
“We have a lot of classes together…!” He cheered.

“It is because of the incidents the headmaster mentioned last night.” Sherlock said as if it was obvious.  
“Sorry, incidents?”

“Don’t you remember? He said they had been resolved.”  
“Oh right, do you know what it was about?” John got himself some freshly baked slices of bread before hogging a small bowl with jam.   
“Students were injured mysteriously and found passed out in hallways and abandoned class rooms.”   
John who had just started to drink some juice, sputtered so the juice caught painfully and he had to cough several times before it didn’t feel like drowning anymore.

“In-injured?!”  
“Yes, but nothing severe, small cuts only and the students began looking to each other with suspicion, or, I should say the houses did. They began to openly accuse each other for various reasons; the one mainly accused was of course Slytherin.”  
John was gaping and finally realized it when his tongue felt overly dry. 

“But, it could easily have been a teacher, couldn’t it?”   
“Ah, brilliant, you’re not as dumb as the others,” Sherlock smiled and John was about to huff as if slightly offended, but wasn’t given the chance.  
“”Yes, it could easily have been anyone and a teacher would actually have made more sense, of course everyone was so busy pointing fingers because of petty rivalry.”

“But was he, or she, caught then?”  
“Yes, and no,”   
“What, Sherlock that makes no sense.”  
“Under interrogation and later a search they came upon evidence that it was in fact the head of the Kitchens who was the culprit, he even admitted it.”  
“The kitchens? Why was he slicing students?”  
“I should kiss you John, you are asking ALL the right questions!” Sherlock looked eager.  
“Ew, no Sherlock,” John huffed.

“There was never any reason for him to use the blood and no blood had been found stored, yet from the amount of blood drained without killing, there should be a lot and yet no one could report the food had tasted off and blood does leave a rather bitter taste.”  
“So they have the wrong guy, but that is awful!”

“Not really, although Mr. Hudson might not be a killer, he was certainly not the nicest man towards his wife, who is now currently Hogwarts’s head of the kitchens. Almost an act of courtesy, don’t you think?”  
“You think the actual murderer directed the suspicion that way,”  
“Yes and it was easy enough too, Mr. Hudson wasn’t well liked neither by students, teachers and even portraits and ghosts alike.”  
“Huh…so, you think he will strike again?” John swallowed heavily and his eyes darted nervously to the sides for a brief moment.  
“It is a possibility we cannot rule out, the other possibility is of course that it _was_ a student and that he or she was a 7th year and therefor graduated. We can leave nothing out.”

“Wait, cannot rule out? It sounds like you are playing detective here, Sherlock.”  
“I am not,”  
“Oh good, because I think that would-“  
“-Not playing at anything here, John, This is too exiting and must be looked into!”  
“What- but, oh we won’t get into trouble will we?” 

Sherlock halted for a moment and looked at John.  
“So you will really join me?”  
“Of course I will, we are friends,”   
Sherlock smiled at that, and John noted how his smile seemed to come more natural today than it had yesterday.  
“Oh, I don’t expect trouble, we’ll just be sniffing around now and then, speculate over possibilities.”  
“Oh, yes, that doesn’t sound too dangerous.”  
“Now hurry with your breakfast John, we have double potions soon.”  
“Right..!” John then proceeded to try and gulp his slices of bread down almost whole. 

~~

The Potion teacher greeted his new students with a cold stare that left John wanting to escape out the very door he had entered through. The class room wasn’t too big and seemed crowded with all the cupboards and closets filled to the brim with ingredients, cauldrons, potions and… did something move in that one? John swallowed heavily but let Sherlock drag him along to find a seat. When everyone had found a seat that teacher frowned like his default setting was ‘disappointment’ and spoke in a voice too dark for such a pale and skinny man. 

“Page ten, you will be brewing cure for boils-“  
“Boring.” Sherlock whispered to John who had to hide a smile.  
“I will not be helping you today, so that I can better assess your brewing abilities, ingredients are in the open cupboard, begin.” The teacher droned on and sat down behind his own desk as students scrambled nervously to their feet.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? I’ve never even brewed a potion before!” John whispered to Sherlock as the Ravenclaw got up.  
“Just do what I do and you will be all set, John.” Sherlock smirked and nudged him to follow. John wasn’t so sure but swallowed nervously before getting up as well. 

 

Sherlock, it turned out, was absolutely brilliant with potions and skipped and added a lot to the actual directions, John just went with it and sure enough the potion turned out like the book said it should, minus some time, ingredients and stirs. They had long since caught the eye of the Potion’s master who now made his way over to them, causing John to try and sink a bit further into his chair.

He studied the potions, stirred to see their consistency, smelled and even tasted a little from Sherlock’s cauldron.   
“Not bad, you two, five points to each of your houses.” He commented before leaving again, his black cape swishing behind him. Sherlock looked scandalized and took on a sulky expression at only be rewarded with “not bad” and 5 points. John however was beaming, grinning from ear to ear which Sherlock would maybe admit lifted his mood _somewhat_

~~

“5 points, what rubbish, that was at least worth 15 points,” Sherlock complained as they climbed the stairs from the dungeon.   
“SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!” A scream from above sounded, making the climbing class freeze and stare at each other nervously. What was going on?  
“Come on, John!” Sherlock said hurriedly and grabbed the blond Gryffindor by the wrist and dragged him up. Just as the dungeon stairs ended a Hufflepuff girl was holding another girl from the same house and year by the looks of it, the girl holding the unconscious girl looked horrified and Sherlock could see why. On the girl’s neck there was a deep, crude gash that surprisingly didn’t spurt blood like such a wound should.

“What is going on!?” A Hufflepuff boy, 4th year or older, shoved through the gathering crowd, but he froze at the sight that met him.   
“What happened here?!” He rushed over and touched the frightened girl’s shoulder.  
“I-I don’t know Greg, she went ahead from class and then I found her like this!” The girl was slipping into hysterics. Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit before sensing a presence from the top of the stairs.

Ah, Mycroft, so these were fourth years, he noted as his nearly coldly composed brother descended from the stairs.   
“Well what are we all waiting for, we should get her to the medical wing!” Sherlock snapped out from his silent glaring at Mycroft as John, of all people, called them out from their shock.

“Y-yeah, yeah, come help me.” The Hufflepuff boy looked up, his face hardening as none of the Slytherins even moved a little. Hufflepuffs had to push their way through to get to the unconscious girl and gather her up. The glaring Hufflepuff, Greg, stepped up to Sherlock’s brother.  
“I swear, Holmes, if I find out anyone of you slimy gits did this, so help me.” He hissed at him before following after the retreating Hufflepuffs with the injured girl in between them. 

Sherlock observed in wonder as flickers of an unknown emotion went over Mycroft’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took some time, I'm currently visiting family in Canada so that got in the way, updates should happen a bit more frequent from now though.


	4. Flying lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have their first flying lessons

John and Sherlock walked in silence for a little while, before Sherlock suddenly murmured “Interesting…”  
“Hm, what is?” John had still been thinking about the poor, attacked girl.  
“So last year’s blood-letter is still at large, a student or teacher then.”  
“What, Sherlock, you think this is the same as last year?”  
“Of course it is, same type of wound, thinned blood, it cannot be anyone else,” Sherlock huffed.

“B-but, what is the school going to do?” John stammered and glanced around.  
“Look into it of course, tighten security a bit, maybe have daytime patrols by prefects and teachers, but they will also be keeping a lid on it for now. We don’t want the school to close down: if it goes too far they will, of course, contact the Ministry of Magic for help.”  
“Yes, of course.” John breathed in relief.  
“We, however, will find the culprit long before that is needed.” Sherlock said matter-of-factly.  
“W-what!? Sherlock!” The blond sputtered as Sherlock sped up.

“Come along John, we need to find out which teachers were free and who had class and if some of them still haven’t returned to the school. Always start with the most likely suspects.”  
“What, hey, what are we going to do about this….Sherlock!” John ran after his friend, exasperated.  
“The art of elimination of course, John, do keep up.”  
“We’re first years, Sherlo- oh he’s not listening that-“John grumbled to himself but quickened his pace to keep up with Sherlock’s long strides.

~

How Sherlock could obsess over this “case” as he called it and still hang onto everything the new classes presented to them was a mystery to John– no pun intended with thought to the current situation. They were eating lunch (or, rather, John was eating lunch) when Sherlock had something that could be classified as an _eureka!_ moment.

“John, this narrows things down, it could not have been a teacher!” Sherlock exclaimed, actually grinning with glee of having finally puzzled some of the pieces together.  
“Why not?” John put his spoon down, drying his chin so the milk wouldn’t drip down to the table.  
“The teachers close by all had classes; the few who didn’t were either accounted for in the teacher’s room or simply too far away. Ergo, it must have been a student.” Sherlock said, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“That’s great; Sherlock, but… you just widened the group of suspects, right?” John said carefully, already familiar with his friend’s sudden mood swings.   
“Well, we can already shorten the list, dear John.”  
“We can?”

“Of course! It cannot be our year, we were not here last year. It is highly unlikely that it was the first years of last year because one would have to know the castle to get away with this, so not this year’s second years then.”

“Okay, yes, first years and second years are out then. That still leaves five others.” John said. This was hopeless, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack and even Sherlock would have to see that, right?

“We also know that the fourth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had class together and that this Hufflepuff girl left first, that is half of the fourth years; the other half had charms, we met them in the hallway, remember? I think we can safely assume none of them could get that far in such little time.”

“That still leaves quite a lot of suspects, Sherlock,” John sighed.  
“Our man, for it is most likely a man if one looks at statistics and the targets that have been chosen so far, but as I was saying; our man is a serial killer, we have to wait for him to slip up. It will come though, John: they always slip up.”

John looked at the Ravenclaw, saw the determination and the passion in his friend’s eyes and couldn’t help but smile.  
“If you say so, Sherlock. I believe you.”  
The little Sherlock smile he got back warmed up his chest further.

~

Some weeks passed and the incident with the Hufflepuff girl was soon forgotten, brushed off as a very tasteless prank. This, of course, displeased Sherlock greatly, but left him more room to explore and investigate with his trusty partner John at his side.

John didn’t quite understand yet, how it could seem like Sherlock was completely devoted to this case and still be up to date with the latest homework assignments. The Ravenclaw boy was always early, was always at either the Ravenclaw or Gryffindor table in the mornings when John got there, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

On this particular morn, however, Sherlock wasn’t to be seen. John blinked a little and then frowned as he sat down at the Gryffindor table. Sherlock was never late to breakfast, everything else maybe, but John knew it as fact that the boy was an incredible early riser. The other first years at his table chattered excitedly as John reached for a piece of bread.

“What’s got everyone so excited?” John leant a bit closer to one of his housemates, Mike Stamford.  
“Flying lessons, of course, have you forgotten already, John?” Mike grinned at him.  
“Really, that’s today?!” John sported a possibly ear-splitting grin. Ever since he had been introduced to the apparently football-equivalent wizard sport, quidditch, John had swallowed everything about the sport raw.  
“You bet! We’re going in with the Ravenclaws.” Mike’s grin widened at John’s enthusiasm. 

“Tedious,” A familiar voice sounded behind John and he turned to grin at Sherlock.  
“Did you hear, we have flying today! I’ve been looking forward to this since forever!”  
“Illogical, you didn’t know it existed only a month ago.” Sherlock grumbled as he slumped down next to John.  
“Someone’s in a sour mood,” Mike commented before going back to his cereal.  
“Aren’t you excited, Sherlock?”  
“I have better things to do than rush about on an unstable broom with bird tendencies.” Sherlock huffed and stabbed his fork through some sausages.  
“Oh come on, it will be amazing!” John urged and continued to grin.

~

“This is amazing!” John couldn’t hold the gleeful squeal in as he soared with ease from the ground up to the height their teacher had instructed. Sherlock scowled at the broom that still lay at his feet, a red bruise forming on his cheek from where the broom handle had smacked him as he angrily summoned it.

“Alright everyone, those of you who are now above my head, direct your brooms over there to Gregory, he’s part of the Hufflepuff quidditch team and will instruct you further. The rest of you I will be helping here.” As soon as the order had been given, John flew easily over to the waving Hufflepuff, the broom pliant and friendly under him as it followed all of his silent commands and directions.

“Hey, nice job! What’s your name?” Gregory waved up at him. John made the broom descend a bit.  
“John Watson, nice to meet you!” John beamed; he couldn’t help the swelling pride in his chest.  
“Gregory Lestrade, but just call me Greg. That, dear John, is some excellent flying. I bet you’ll make it onto the Gryffindor team in no time next year if you wanted to.”  
“You think I could do that?” John grinned.  
“Oh yeah, have to wait till you have your own broom, though.”  
“Oh…” John sank down to the ground and stepped off. “That might be a bit of a problem.”  
“Your parents don’t want you to fly?”  
“I don’t think my dad knows about flying brooms.”  
“Aha, muggle-born, eh? Well in that case, the school can sponsor you, if you’re good enough that is.” Greg winked at him.

“You really think I’m good enough?” John began smiling again.  
“Kid, had you been a year or two older and in my house ,I’d have my team captain take you in at once. You’re a natural at flying. Do you like football?”  
“Love it!”  
“Yeah, you’d be awesome at quidditch.” Greg chuckled and John was beaming again.

~

John received a lot of praise for his flying from both the teacher and Greg at the end of the flying lesson. Greg ended up tagging along with John and Sherlock when the boys went for lunch. He obviously liked John, but he also seemed genuinely interested in Sherlock though he did not ask anything of the dark haired boy who obviously was in a sour mood from having been put out of his element with the “bloody stupid and useless flying.”

“If you want, I can take you to watch some practices, John” Greg offered and smiled as the blond got excited at once.  
“Really? That’d be so cool!”

Sherlock just huffed beside them and subconsciously took a step closer to John, which Greg secretly found endearing. If he didn’t think the younger Holmes would kill him for it, he would have cooed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got a beta reader!  
> Many thanks and credit to InsanitysxCreation !! :)


	5. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's first wizard Halloween.

The following weeks brought very little to Sherlock’s case and made the boy huffy and easily bored. He got over it quickly enough, though, as John kept him busy by exploring the castle at every given opportunity, which offered many puzzles and quizzes to find hidden rooms and how to enter them.

Flying eventually went smoother for Sherlock, but only because John was there to help him. Sherlock comforted himself that John deserved to be the top performer in some classes as well. Friends shared every now and then, didn’t they?

Greg and John, despite the age difference, became fast friends and could often be seen together during meal time or when Greg took John to quidditch practice. Sherlock would often tag along while sulking and voicing his complaints loudly and clearly. Both John and Greg learned to just shrug at and continue with what they were doing. 

Greg, with his own experience of having a muggle mother, was also a great support for John who was the only Gryffindor of his year to be raised strictly in the “muggle ways” as they now jokingly called it. Of course, John could go to Sherlock whenever he wanted if he required help of any kind, but sometimes it was hard for Sherlock to understand and the dark haired boy tended to get curt if he didn’t fully comprehend the situation. So John went to Greg with his worries about the often short or even lack of replies to his letters home.

“He probably just feels awkward with using owls, John. My mum still gets skittish when she has to attach the notes and letters to our house owl.” Greg would chuckle, coaxing a chuckle and smile from John.  
“Just keep sending your letters, John. I’m sure your father appreciates it.” Greg patted John’s shoulder. John’s smile would widen and his short locks would bob as the boy nodded his head.

~ 

Halloween was closing in fast; this was made apparent by the Ghosts’ game of ‘Let us scare the shit out of as many students as possible.’ And also the many Halloween decorations that started to appear all over the castle. John had mixed feelings about the approaching celebration: on the one hand, it would most likely be an amazing Halloween with magic and whatnot; on the other hand, it would be his first Halloween without his family. No creepy pranks from him and his sister to scare their father, no special Halloween treats from the oven. John gave a deep sigh which promptly made their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher clear his throat and give John a pointed look. The Gryffindor straightened at once and flushed slightly, glancing at Sherlock who rolled his eyes at him.

When the lesson finally ended, John could let out a suffering sigh that had built up during the remaining time of the class.

“What is it with you today?” Sherlock asked, annoyed at the constant sighing from his friend.  
“It’s Halloween tonight.”  
“I thought we were supposed to enjoy the overload of sweets and treats?” the Ravenclaw arched a brow.  
“Well yeah, but…”  
“You miss home,” Sherlock stated.  
“A little, yes… don’t you?” John looked at the taller boy, who grimaced.  
“Absolutely not, the only thing enjoyable about Halloween for me was that Mother and Father would never join me and my brother for our meals due to their potions and what not.” Sherlock huffed.

“Has nothing ever been really… well, fun for you?”  
“No.” Sherlock said curtly and looked away.  
“That is too bad… but it settles things as well!” John announced.  
“Settles things?” Sherlock glanced at him again as they turned left, then right to get to the Grand Staircase.

“I’ll make sure this will be your best Halloween ever, Sherlock!” John grinned and Sherlock could feel his lips twitching into that small smile solely reserved for John.

~

The Grand Hall filled with gasps of delight as Mrs. Hudson’s carefully prepared treats, along with sweets from Honeydukes (a wizard’s sweet shop John had been told he could look forward to) appeared out of seemingly thin air.

“Oh. I’m going to die.” John moaned after a while as he patted his now full stomach.  
“Nonsense,” Sherlock muttered, but let out a small burp that indicated the raven haired boy might agree a little bit.

“Enjoying everything so far?” Greg came over and sat down at the other side of the table.  
“Oh yeah, who makes all this stuff anyway?” John took another gulp of juice.  
“That would be Mrs. Hudson and whoever makes the sweets for Honeydukes.” Sherlock answered before Greg got a chance.

“You’ll love Honeydukes, John. It’s got everything sweet you could ever imagine.” Greg grinned, ignoring the rude interruption from Sherlock.  
“When do we get to go?”  
“Third year, you’ll be asked to receive your parent’s or guardian’s signature when your list of school supplies arrives. “  
“Too long,” John groaned.

Sherlock was about to make a comment, but the doors were suddenly thrown open and a wild-eyed Gryffindor came running inside.

“There’s been another attack!” He yelled as he ran up to the teachers’ table. The teachers had all gotten to their feet, the students falling into almost eerie silence.  
“I went to look for Amanda, ‘cus she was going to the toilet and never came back and now she’s-“ the teen shook.

An intense chatter broke out in the hall, but it was quickly hushed by the teachers.  
The school nurse was already on her way out of the hall, followed by a few teachers.  
“Prefects, gather your houses and get to the common rooms.” The headmaster instructed calmly, but there was an undertone of distress there as well that worried the students as they lined up and followed the prefects. Many craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the scene of the attack, but it was surrounded by teachers, and the attacked girl had already been carried off to the medical wing.

“The game is on again,” Sherlock whispered to John before they got separated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to InsanitysxCreation for beta reading.
> 
> Please do tell me what you think!


	6. Eyes and ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does some recruiting.

“I need eyes and ears, John.” Sherlock opened the following morning as John came to sit next to him in the Great Hall.

“Good morning to you, too, and what do you mean?” John glanced around the hall; one could almost taste the somber mood that seemed to fill the entire castle today.

“It is, as we have established, a student. There are four houses in which that particular student could be in even if we have ruled out the first years, second years and fourth years. I cannot keep tabs on all the Ravenclaw students, too much socializing involved. I can easily recruit Molly Hooper, though. I have you keeping an eye on the Gryffindors, but this leaves Slytherin and Hufflepuff.” Sherlock explained and ended his tirade with a sigh.

“What about Hufflepuff?” Greg sat down opposite of them, brow arched.  
“Perfect,” Sherlock smirked. Greg looked to John.  
“He wants you to keep an eye on the Hufflepuffs, Sherlock is trying to catch the culprit.” John whispered.

“What?!”  
“Shhh!” John and Sherlock both hushed.  
“What…?” Greg lowered his voice “You actually think you can do that?”  
“Naturally.”

“Hang on, why do you think a Hufflepuff did it?” Greg asked, getting defensive. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t be daft, and don’t let emotions rule your head. I am simply treating everyone as a suspect. Since I know you sat by your table flirting with that ginger before you came to us last night, you are no longer a suspect. You have some friendly bonds to John, you can be trusted.” Sherlock concluded.

“And, you’re a fourth year, and Sherlock has already ruled out all the fourth years as possible culprits.” John explained, feeling the pride on the behalf of his brilliant friend. Greg, who had been gaping since Sherlock had “analyzed” him, closed his mouth and looked at the two first years.  
“I- alright, yes, you know this is dangerous right?”  
Sherlock just snorted.

“That still leaves Slytherin, Sherlock.” John looked at the Ravenclaw with arched brows.  
“Leave that one to me,” Sherlock smirked in a particularly vicious way that had the other two scooting a bit away from the dark haired boy.

~

Mycroft Holmes sat in a rather dark area of the library, or to be more exact, the restricted section of the library. He was carefully kneading his forehead with two fingers. This day was already a bad one as his first class had been one of those classes shared with the Hufflepuffs, which meant glowers and dark-eyed looks from a certain Hufflepuff quidditch player.

The older Holmes was at a loss for what to do; normally he would just brush such incidents off and give the annoyance a cold look. This tactic did not work with Gregory Lestrade, however, as the Hufflepuff well and often took that as a provocation and would voice his opinion loud and clear. When had the Hufflepuff become so, so independent and self-assured? Normally Hufflepuffs went out of their ways to not mess with the other houses; however, Gregory Lestrade seemed to have a strong sense of justice and was getting back at Mycroft’s cold and arrogant attitude from earlier years.

The Slytherin sighed heavily and looked up, only to meet a pair of icy blue eyes that almost had him reeling backwards. Almost.

“Sherlock, what are you doing here, you are supposed to have charms.” Mycroft hissed. He had not exchanged words with his brother since the beginning of the semester. Sherlock had showed no interest in being in touch with his older brother. And yet here he was, as if this was something that happened often.

“Hello, brother dear.” Sherlock said in a sweet tune. Too sweet, and it had Mycroft suspicious at once.  
“I asked you a question,” Mycroft pressed, which was again promptly ignored by Sherlock.  
“I need you to keep track of the Slytherins.” Sherlock continued as if Mycroft had answered in the exact way Sherlock had wanted him to. The older Holmes sighed heavily once more.  
“I knew you would take an interest in this. Is it too late to ask you to lay off, that it is in fact real and dangerous, not a child’s game? People have been hurt, Sherlock.” Mycroft narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“And you know as well as I, that I am perfectly suited to find this madman and have him detained.”  
Mycroft looked at his brother’s unblinking eyes before finally closing his own.  
“What do you want me to look for?” The older asked in defeat.  
“A boy, not from your own year, nor from the second or first years. Everyone else is a suspect. Possibly not the tallest, heaviest, or strongest character as he preys on girls.”

“That could just be a preference,” Mycroft began but was cut off by Sherlock.  
“If it was another type of offence, yes, sexually or violently, but this man is just letting blood from them, nothing else. He uses the blood for something, a ritual or potion. I shall research further into this soon as I have my suspicions.”

“Very well, I shall keep my eyes open. It is still a very wide area, though, Sherlock.”  
“We’ll narrow it down.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he said so.

~

Even with eyes and ears in all four houses, Sherlock got no closer to solving his mystery as Christmas approached. The school, with its students and teachers, eventually settled down again, although wary glances were exchanged and no student ventured out alone. Not even if it was for a simple toilet break during class.

By the time the holidays arrived no other attacks had happened and the teachers gave a relieved breath as the majority of the students dragged their trunks or backpacks to the train to go home during the holidays.

John smiled at his reflection on the frosty window of their compartment as the train began rolling out from the station. Beside him Sherlock sat more quietly than usual.  
“Aren’t you excited for Christmas, Sherlock?” John tilted his head as he asked.  
“Hmm…? Oh, no not really.” The younger Holmes answered absentmindedly; John frowned but said nothing for now. They spent most of the train ride in silence.

When they finally came to a stop in London, John looked for his father the moment he got out from the train. Daniel Watson, however, was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock lingered behind him as a comforting presence as the other students found their families and rushed over for hugs and broad smiles.

“Alright you two, have a nice Christmas.” Greg greeted as he passed them, he ruffled John’s hair and offered a wide smile.  
“And remember to wish for a broom, yeah?”  
“Of course…! Have a nice Christmas, Greg.” John offered back as the older teen waved at them before greeting a couple that was undoubtedly his parents. As the crowd thinned, it was also rather easy to spot the Holmes family, even if they stood half hidden by shadow. Sherlock cast a look at them before abruptly turning towards John.

“Promise you will write me?”  
If John didn’t know better, he would say Sherlock almost sounded a little desperate and his heart bled for his friend.  
“Of course, but you have to send the first letter, I don’t have an owl remember?”  
Sherlock nodded and glanced over at his family again, observing as Mycroft joined their parents and was barely greeted with an almost invisible nod. The Ravenclaw swallowed.

“Well, see you after Christmas, then.”  
John, in a moment of inspiration and adoration for his fiend, surged forward and wrapped Sherlock up in a firm hug.  
“Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I promise I’ll write you as much as you want me to.” The blond said against the darker haired boy’s shoulder. Sherlock wrapped his own arms around John’s slightly shorter form and nodded against the other boy, small smile in place again.  
“Well, I’ll see you soon then.” John said as he let go, smiling up at the Ravenclaw.  
“Yes, and John?”  
“Hm?” John kept his smile as he looked at his friend.  
“Merry Christmas.”  
John’s smiled widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to InsanitysxCreation for beta reading  
> I lied about the magic violin it seems, it doesn't happen until chapter 8 (sorry!)


	7. A heartbreaking Christmas Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock keep in contact as the holidays sets in for real.

John didn’t find his dad until he ran through the magical wall.  
“Dad!” He cheered and ran over to be enveloped in a firm hug.  
“Aw, John my little man. I’m so sorry but I just didn’t know about the wall you know… if you touch it appears firm and well…” His father said a bit sheepishly. John just chuckled.  
“It’s alright, dad, I know it looks and seems crazy!”

His father just gave a short laugh before picking up John’s trunk and heading for the parking lot. Once they were finally settled in the car and Daniel had adjusted the mirrors a little out of habit, he looked to his son as the car rumbled to life. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to all your letters, John, I just… well the owl and the well…”  
“It’s alright, dad, Greg explained how it can be a bit weird for you and that’s okay!” To tell the truth, John was simply too happy from the two good hugs he had just received to really remember his disappointment from all the letters left unanswered.

“Who’s Greg?” His father sent him a small smile before his eyes went back to the road. “I want to know everything, little man,” he encouraged.  
“Oh, Greg is a fourth year! He’s sort of like me, only his mum is the muggle and his father the wizard.”

“Muddle?”  
“No, dad, ‘muggle’ is the word they use for people without any magic.” John giggled.  
“Ooh, so he is a half and half too is he?”  
“Yes, and he’s a quidditch player for his house team! That’s like football for wizards by the way. They use brooms and everything; oh, can’t I get a broom for Christmas, dad? Please?”  
“Hang on, hang on, a broom? You mean wizards and witches _actually_ fly on brooms?”  
“Yeah! And my teacher thinks I’m the best flyer of the first years this year, isn’t that amazing! They say I’m a natural.” John grinned, feeling rather proud of himself in that moment.

“Well that’s good,” His father said, but it sounded like an automatic response and none too pleased about the fact John was flying around on a broom that was normally used to clean floors, in the **old** days.

“So can I have a broom? Can I? I can’t bring it to school this year, but next year I can and I want to start practicing quidditch because I want to be in my house team by the time I hit the third year!” John sounded so eager it pained his father to have to let his son down.

“I don’t know, John, I’m not sure I like the sound of this… flying. And besides I have no idea where to buy a broom for you, and Wizards use different currency, right? Will the accept pounds and pennies?” Daniel hated to see that slightly deflated look on his son’s face, hated it even more that he was the one who had put it there. To get John a little distracted, Daniel pushed on.  
“Speaking about currency, will the school always send you an allowance so you can buy supplies?” This actually worried Daniel Watson quite a bit. He wanted his son to continue his wizard education, but what if it was expected that he as a parent took responsibility for the school supplies and books next time, what did he pay with? Could he exchange his money for wizard money? And if so, how much was wizard money worth? The man bit his lip, frowning slightly as he stopped the car at a red light.

“Hm…I’m not sure, but I bet my friend Sherlock knows!” John seemed to perk up at the mention of his friend. “Remember I told you about him in my letters?” John was almost beaming again.  
“Oh yeah, you think he would know?” Daniel glanced at his son again before releasing the breaks when the light turned green.

“Sherlock knows lots of stuff! And he’s from a wizards and witches only kind of family, if he doesn’t know he’ll find out right away.” John sounded so very sure of his friend that his father couldn’t help but smile.

“If you say so, John.” The blond man smiled for real now as London faded into a suburb.

~

Not long after they pulled into a familiar driveway and John hopped out of the car the minute it came to a halt. He collected his trunk from the back and smacked the boot close. Daniel locked the car and opened the door before stepping inside.

“We’re home…!” He announced and hoped for the love of God that Harry had sobered up from the party she had gone to last night. The only reply he got was a groan from the direction of the kitchen. It was an annoyed groan, though, and not a hangover-groan so he relaxed slightly and closed the door as soon as John dragged his trunk inside.

“I’ll take it upstairs for you, your sister is in the kitchen.” He said as he took over the surprisingly light trunk and began carrying it upstairs.

“Hey, Harry,” John greeted as he spotted his sister, Harriet, in the kitchen. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Hello, squirt.” She replied and John stuck his tongue out at her in a familiar fashion and smiled afterwards.

“Play it nice, you two.” Their father warned as he joined them in the kitchen. “Now, who wants take out?”  
“Chinese, please!” John raised his hand while Harry just grunted in agreement.

~

They had just started eating when a strange pecking sound echoed down from the second floor.  
“Hang on, do you two hear that?” Daniel Watson narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling, then startled as the table jumped a little when John pushed away quickly.  
“I forgot the window!” He shouted as explanation, sounding slightly panicked as he ran up the stairs.

“I’m confused?” Daniel looked to his daughter who looked just as confused.  
Upstairs, John hurriedly opened his bedroom window to let the dark feathered owl, which belonged to Sherlock, inside.

“I’m sorry, Tobias, I just forgot.” John looked at the owl with an apologetic frown; the owl just tutted at him and pecked carefully at the letter he had dropped on John’s desk.  
“Hang on.” John opened his trunk and rummaged until he found a brown paper bag that had Tobias cooing in excitement.

“Here you go, an owl treat for an excellent owl.” John grinned as he handed Sherlock’s owl the treat before taking and opening the letter.

_John,_

_I have not yet been here for a couple of hours and still I find it even more suffocating and tedious than before. My Mother is constantly voicing her so called “disappointment” that I did not “make it” into the family house, Father is actually disappointed enough to treat me like air or just another whisper in this place. So, all in all, things are just as they used to be before I left for school, and I find it hateful. I have been taught that craving companionship is a weakness, unnecessary and foolish. And yet here I am, craving your companionship._

_At least we will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I will go to Flourish & Blotts and search for books on certain potions and rituals. Perhaps I will find a deeper answer amongst the pages.  
I look forward to hearing from you, and would it be possible for Tobias to stay with you if the weather is not agreeable?_

_Sherlock_

John frowned at the letter. It didn’t exactly sound like Sherlock was experiencing the joy and fun that was supposed to go with holidays and family visits. John decided he would reply right away and rummaged through the already messy trunk and found his ink and parchment.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_It makes me sad to hear about your parents and how you feel at home, no one should have to feel like that at home, and especially not when it is Christmas! Don’t worry though, you can write me any time you want. Because, even though it is great to be home for a bit, I also miss you!  
Tobias can stay as long as he likes, but what does he eat? Does he hunt for himself? Just send the instructions if there are any._

_And see, your holiday isn’t that horrible! I mean, you get to go to Diagon Alley. My dad is still put off a bit by all the strange stuff that is the wizard world. No fancy magical gifts for me this year, but that’s okay._

_Have fun in Diagon Alley!_

_John_

John looked his letter over and grimaced at how rambling his letter seemed, though he supposed Sherlock would understand; no doubt the other had memorized every word he had sent John’s way.

The blond was about to get an envelope when he suddenly remembered his father’s earlier words and put pen to paper again.

_PS_

_My father wanted to know if I will get an allowance from school every year to pay for my school supplies, or if we have to pay with muggle money next year (since this is the only kind of money we have here). Is it possible to exchange muggle money to wizard money?_

John nodded to himself and slid the now-folded letter into an envelope of muggle make, so he only had to lick the rims to close it. He wrote Sherlock’s name on the front and looked at the owl that had long since finished his treat.

“Do you feel up for another trip so soon?” John asked and held out the letter. The dark feathered fowl simply snatched the letter from his hands and sailed out of the window. John hurried to his window and watched the owl with a small smile until the owl disappeared in the darkness of the evening.

~

The following days were blissfully uneventful as John simply enjoyed spending time with his tiny family. So far they had gone Christmas shopping, baked Christmas cookies, and cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. 

If Harry perhaps spent a bit too much time in her room by herself, it was brushed off as a teenage girl thing by John and their father, though Daniel Watson kept glancing with eyes that got darker and darker per glance.

It was one of those rare days where Harry would actually join her father and brother for breakfast. Warm silence enveloped the kitchen, with old classic Christmas songs seeping out evenly from the radio. The only warning the Watson family got that their breakfast would soon be interrupted was a high pitched hoot before a certain dark feathered owl flew into their kitchen, making Daniel give a startled yell and Harry shriek as Tobias landed gracefully besides John’s cereal bowl.

“Tobias, you have a letter for me!” John grinned and took the offered letter, ignoring that Tobias began pecking at his cereal the moment his beak was free. He opened the letter and read it through, eyes widening at the content.

“That’s an owl…” Harry stared at the fowl who gulped down her brother’s breakfast.  
“They use it for mail…” Her father stated, as if he only just now remembered that himself.  
“What really? Retro,” Harry rolled her eyes and went back to her own bowl of cereal.

_John,_

_I took the liberty to look into your financial situation; it gave me something to do. As it turns out, you have a bit of a fortune, my friend. John Hamish Watson stands as the sole heir to the Bellum family’s fortune and vault at Gringotts bank. The Bellum name is, or rather was, quite famous in the Wizarding world you know._  
But Hannah Bellum and her sister were the last heirs with the Bellum name. Your mother married Daniel Watson and took his name, possibly believing her sister would carry on the family name as Hannah’s sister, your aunt, was the first born. However, she died during the cultist reign 17 years ago.  
Hanna had two children, however only one has shown magical ability and therefore inherits the entire Bellum Vault. All that is required of you to get access is to go to the bank and tell them who you are and let them do spell and person checks on you, and you will obtain your vault key. 

_To answer your other questions: Tobias eats most foods, but can also hunt for himself. Yes it is possible to exchange muggle money to wizard money. The moment you reclaim your vault, you will only receive minor stipends._

Sherlock had then continued to write quick and short notes on the small bits of information tied to the case he had found through books. From what John could see, though, his friend still had a long way to go. He smiled all the same and looked up at his dad.

“It’s from Sherlock, I asked him about the money thing and he tells me I’ve inherited a Wizard vault after mum and her family. I’m apparently the only heir according to Sherlock. “

“Oh, well then-“  
“What, mum left money only for you?” Harry narrowed her eyes.  
“Wizard money, you can’t use that to buy clothes at the mall you know.”  
Harry just threw her hands in the air and groaned at the world.

“That is still some of the most unfair shit I’ve ever heard! She was my bloody mum too!” She snapped and left the table.  
“Harriet!” Their father said sternly but went ignored as Harriet’s door slammed shut from upstairs.

“But… what would she even use that kind of money for, she’s not a witch…” John mumbled, deflated after his sister’s outburst and sudden mood swing. He touched Tobias’ feathers gently and looked down at the letter in his other hand, trying to draw comfort from the words written there by his friend against this sudden uneasiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to InsanitysxCreation for beta reading


	8. A heartbreaking Christmas Part 2

For a while, all was tensely quiet in the house. John sat in his room with Tobias, writing a reply to Sherlock’s letter. At first he had meant to only write a thank-you note, maybe ask about the investigation and which books Sherlock had been looking into. He had barely put pen to paper before every confused thought and hurt feeling flowed out of him and into the letter.

After some time he stopped and looked down at the parchments filled with his hurt and confusion; it looked chaotic and sniveling, so he decided to try organizing things into at least a little bit more legible letter. He had just written “Dear Sherlock,” when an explosion of sound came from his sister’s room.

“What are you doing!?” His father’s voice boomed, shock and grief evident in his voice. John couldn’t make out what his sister answered, for it was slurred.

“No, you promised, Harriet Watson, you promised to stay away from the damn liquor. Jesus, girl, you’re only 14 and you are turning into an alcoholic!” Daniel Watson’s voice got more frantic and John could hear him march into his sister’s room to Harry’s loud protest.

“No, no more, Harriet, I let you go to all those parties because that was what you wanted and liked to do, it got you out of the house and you didn’t seem so lonely anymore. Was it all for the drinking?”

John felt compelled to hold his hands over his ears to shut out his father’s ever rising voice.  
“But you promised me, you promised me, Harriet, that you would stay **sober** while your brother was home. This is not sober! Why, why are you doing this!? And the day before Christmas Eve, no less!” This was shouting, pure, desperate shouting and John hurried to his bed where he curled in on himself and hid his head in an attempt to get away from the sound.

He could make out a lot of rummaging going on in Harry’s room and whatever it was, Harry was protesting it loudly.

“How much have you stuffed away, God just… If I find you like this ONE more time ,Harriet Watson, I will send you to that special school that can give you the help you need. God knows, my support, my willingness to listen, and trying my best to help haven’t been enough.”

“Gimme my bottles back!” Harry yelled angrily at her father.  
“These are going into the trash and I MEAN it, Harriet, just ONE more time, ONE toe over the line and it is game over.” Daniel’s voice had calmed somewhat, now filled with a bottomless sorrow that had John cringing and screwing his eyes shut as tears stung them.

“Fine!” Harry yelled back at her father and slammed her door as Daniel went down the stairs and outside, where he dumped full and half empty bottles into the trash before marching inside again. All the while, John tried to rock gently, doing his best to ignore the drunken sobs from the room next door.

~

John managed to write up the letter and send it with Tobias before dinner, a dinner where every now and then Daniel would try to ask random questions and only John would answer. The small talk would quickly die, though, as a dark mood rolled off Harry in waves. John would swallow and look down at his plate, pushing the food around a bit before trying to swallow some more down through a throat that felt too tight.

“How about we wait ‘til tomorrow to decorate the tree, huh?” Their father asked as dinner finally neared its completion. 

“Yeah, we could do that. It’s already late anyway,” John said with attempted cheer; Harry just grunted.  
“Alright, let us do that then, I’ll just pop out and do some last minute shopping at the convenience store, alright? Can you two clean this up?”

“Yeah.” John nodded and managed a smile.  
“Good, thanks bud.” Daniel got up,and sent John a smile before he picked up his car keys from the counter and threw a jacket on.

They waited until they heard the car pull out before getting up. Harry, however, immediately made for the stairs.  
“Aren’t you going to help me clean up?” John asked carefully.  
“No, you’re his ‘bud’, nobody asked me so you clean up.” Harry hissed at him before stomping up the stairs at a brisk pace, followed by another door slamming. John swallowed the lump in his throat and started gathering the plates from the table.

~

The decorating the following day brought some feeling of normalcy to the Watson household and even Harry joined in a few times and voiced her opinion without sarcasm about how the tree should be decorated. John went to bed that night with a hopeful smile before he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

The next morning they were awoken by the smell of porridge with cinnamon and the promise of gifts under the Christmas tree. John threw the covers off and ran downstairs, heading for the living room.

“Food first, young man.” A cheerful voice called from the kitchen. John groaned playfully before slipping into the kitchen to receive his traditional Christmas porridge for breakfast. Harry came down just as John had begun shoveling porridge into his mouth.

Daniel made them wait until everyone was done eating and then clean up the table before they were allowed into the bright living room with neatly wrapped presents under an evergreen tree covered in colorful decorations. John smiled happily at the familiar sight, but he was shaken out of his glee by his sister.

“What the heck is an owl doing in here?” She stared at the black owl that was currently preening its feathers.  
“Oh, that’s Sherlock’s owl, maybe he wrote me a Christmas card?” John looked around the room but found no letters or cards and shrugged before turning to the tree to grab his first present. It was then he noticed what looked like a thick stick was sticking out from under the tree, a note attached to the wrapped stick with a piece of string. He opened the note, barely registering Harry’s shriek of glee as she had gotten one of the perfumes she had wanted.

_Merry Christmas John,_

_Another friend informed me it was customary to give your most beloved friends gifts for Christmas, so I got you one. Don’t worry about giving me a gift. Your friendship is enough._

_Sherlock_

John’s eyes widened as he read the note over once more before looking at the stick again.  
“What have you got there, John? Have you opened anything yet?” His father asked after having opened his second present consisting of yet another pair of socks and a tie with screaming colors.

“No, I’ve got a gift from Sherlock.” John said slowly as he wrapped his hand carefully around the stick.

“Oh, your friend got you a gift. That was nice of him, you should give him something when you return to school.”

John was only listening halfway as he pulled Sherlock’s gift out from underneath the tree. He gasped, for even though the present was wrapped, there was no mistake about what it was. Eager hands tore off the paper wrappings, revealing a brand new broom in a dark color, complete with the newest comfort systems and modifications.

“Wow… my very own broom…” John breathed in awe. He didn’t notice the stares he was getting from his father and sister.

Daniel hid his frown as soon as John turned to look, no, beam at him and did his best to smile back. The man could feel how awkward the smile was and quickly began talking instead.

“Now you have quite a job figuring out a present for your friend, huh?”  
John nodded with wide eyes and went back to stare at the broom with a wide smile and wide eyes.

~

John had written Sherlock a long letter which mainly said ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ quickly followed by ‘you’re the best, ever, period’. He had sent it together with some homemade sweets and the promise of finding Sherlock a gift as well. When, a few days later, he managed to get his father (and sister because Daniel refused to let Harriet be alone in the house for a longer period of time) to go shopping, he drove the other two up the wall with his constant speculation about what he should give to Sherlock.

The result after nearly two and half hours in the mall had John smiling in triumph as he hugged the medium sized bag to his chest. Daniel just sighed and shook his head fondly as he pulled into the driveway. John was already out of the car, key in hand, and on his way to the front door. He was eager to see if Sherlock had replied so he could send the gift at once with Tobias. He unlocked the door and let himself in, shrugging out of his cozy jacket and pulling off his beanie and gloves.

He was about to walk to the stairs, passing the entrance to the living room, when something caught his attention in the corner of his eye.

“Hello, John,” a familiar voice said and John spun around, staring right at a certain younger Holmes that was seated in one of the deep chairs, his trunk beside him.

“Sherlock…!” John said in bewilderment, yet also happiness as he rushed into the living room.  
“What, Sherlock?” His father muttered from the hallway before he followed his son, halting at once he spotted the dark haired boy that was currently being hugged by his own son.  
“How the hell did he get in?” Harry blinked at the scene in front of her. She exchanged a look with her father as the two boys whispered back and forth for a little bit.

“Dad, Harry, this is my friend Sherlock. He wants to know if it is okay if he can stay here for a little bit?” John gave a look that Daniel was more than used to, the puppy eyes, but still felt it tugging at his heartstrings seeing as John didn’t exactly use those eyes very often (unlike his sister who had been notorious for her puppy and doe eyes.)

“Uh, well I see nothing wrong with it if-“  
“I have permission from my parents,” Sherlock suddenly entered the dialogue, almost causing Daniel to jump at the suddenness.  
“Oh, well then, welcome to our home, Sherlock.” He tried a smile but was still a bit too shocked at the situation to pull it off properly. Where the hell had this kid come from? Certainly not the front door. Had he broken in through the windows? Didn’t look like it from down here.

“Come on, Sherlock, let me show you my room, oh, and do you mind sleeping on the floor? On a mattress on the floor of course.”  
“No.”  
“Then you can stay in my room!”

Harry and Daniel looked at each other as the two boys disappeared upstairs.  
“What the actual fuck…?”  
If Daniel hadn’t been a supposedly responsible adult, he would have agreed verbally with his daughter.


	9. A heartbreaking Christmas Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank all mighty powers for Sherlock. 
> 
> .....  
> Finally Magic violin!

John felt excited about having Sherlock over and ushered his friend into his room.  
“S’not the biggest room in the world, but you know, it’s mine.” John said bashfully once inside.  
“I like it. It’s very you,” Sherlock deadpanned and John knew Sherlock well enough to take it as a compliment.

“I’ll go find a mattress for you, just put your trunk over there.” He pointed and left the room. Sherlock looked at the open door for a while before turning his interest to the window. He was about to walk over and open it when a pair of feet rushed inside again and he was enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

“And thank you, thank you so much for the broom! It was the best Christmas gift, ever!” John grinned at him, Sherlock smiled back once the shock of being touched in such an affectionate manner again settled.

“I gathered as much from your letter, you are very much welcome, John. I am glad you like it.”  
“I have a gift for you as well, I’ll go get it!” Just as he had appeared, John vanished just as quickly. Sherlock was almost a little dazed at the speed. The warmth John brought though was slowly seeping back into him, replacing the cold that always settled in him when he was at home. Here he was touched casually, a hand suddenly on his shoulder, elbow, or in his own hand, a pat on his back or head. He was smiled to, joked with, and always welcomed. He nearly startled again as he caught himself smiling slightly even though there was no one in the room to smile for.

When John got back, he was dragging a big mattress and was accompanied by his father who carried the bed sheets, a duvet, and a pillow.  
“There you go,” Daniel set everything down on John’s bed.  
“Now, are there any foods you can’t have, Sherlock?” he looked at the pale, dark haired boy.  
“No, I have no allergies but…” he glanced at John for a second. “I’m not overly fond of fish...” He finally admitted. Daniel Watson laughed at that.

“Oh, then you will fit right in here. Nobody in this household likes fish and we have it, what, once a month to keep up the vitamin D. Isn’t that right, John?”

There were two very relieved people in the room as John nodded and grinned: Sherlock, because he hadn’t made an arse of himself to the only person who actually mattered to him, and Daniel, because for now Sherlock seemed like any young boy… Well almost, if you didn’t count the creepy entering he had done, the fact that he was pale as a ghost, and had intensely, ice blue eyes.

Daniel left the two alone and closed the door with a smile. All in all, it was reassuring to see that John had made such a good friend at school. For it was easy to see that the two boys were close.

“Your gift…!” John turned to his bed and grabbed for the bag hidden in the duvet. “It isn’t wrapped though,” John said with an apologetic smile as he handed Sherlock the paper bag.  
“A gift? But I told you I didn’t need…. one…” Sherlock had opened the bag and taken a look inside. What he saw gave him pause, for inside was some soft looking purple fabric. Sherlock slipped a hand in and touched the fabric carefully before taking it out. It was a long scarf in a deep purple color.

“It’s our house colors….” Sherlock said quietly.  
“Oh, yeah I know I thought it could remind you of our friendship? And you always complain that the house scarf you got itched and that all the scarves you have at home are 50 shades of green. Don’t you like the-“ John got a bit fidgety, but was cut off as Sherlock threw the scarf around his neck and almost seemed to snuggle into it.

“I love it, thank you, John,” he said honestly, his small smile peeking up from the scarf. John smiled back, relieved.  
“It suits you,” John complimented and Sherlock’s smile widened carefully.

~

John loved having Sherlock around; it meant he could ignore his sister and always have an excuse to get away when she was in bad moods - which seemed to be always these days. Sherlock offered distractions when the room got too tense because of the disappointment evident in Daniel’s face, which sent Harry into fits that often ended in shouting matches.  
They had just escaped such a match and sought refuge in John’s room.

“I thought your family was more…. Family-like, if you get my meaning?” Sherlock looked up at his friend as he sat down on John’s bed.

“Used to be, yeah…” John sighed and sat down next to his friend.  
“I’m sorry your family is turning into mine,” Sherlock said somberly.  
“Like yours? Do they shout at each other like this?”  
“No, but the problem is communication on both ends, I suppose. Mine doesn’t do it at all and yours do it… well wrong? I am unsure; I am new to these situations.” Sherlock shrugged and flopped back on the bed. John flinched for a second as Harry’s door slammed shut next to his room.

“I guess… I’m sorry you have to see this, but I’m glad you’re here all the same…” John looked to the dark haired boy again, seeking comfort. He received it in the form of one of Sherlock’s small smiles.

~

Sherlock spent a lot of time reading books he had brought with and writing messy notes John could barely translate into readable words. Often, Sherlock would sit up into the small hours of the night, John fast asleep behind him. He occasionally told John small details about what he was actually reading into; what he didn’t tell him was how close he thought he was to figuring out what the madman back at school was actually trying to achieve with his bloodletting. Sherlock had noted down similarities and possibilities of patterns and what he was seeing so far didn’t look good for his remaining vacation time with John.

He had written a little note for his brother that he had sent with Tobias two nights ago. Tonight he was sitting by John’s desk again, observing the half opened window. A familiar shadow approached the window and a whispered word opened the window enough for the owl to easily sail in through it. Tobias dropped the letter onto the desk before landing on John’s bed post where he ruffled his feathers and got cozy.

Sherlock picked up the letter from his brother and opened it. What met him seemed to be gibberish, drawings and patterns, but Sherlock had anticipated this and picked up a mirror he had retrieved from his trunk earlier that evening. He held the mirror up and turned the letter towards it.

 _“Dominus archanis profer”_ He whispered to the mirror that began glowing a faint blue. 

The gibberish that was mirrored began twisting and turning, separating and becoming understandable words. When the mirror stopped glowing, Sherlock turned the letter back to find a blank page. He tapped a finger against the parchment and a word came into sight.  
Pleased with himself, Sherlock then brushed his hand over the paper, revealing the text completely. This was an encryption technique his father had made long ago and it was one of the few secrets Master Holmes had actually shared with his offspring.

The now decrypted letter contained personal notes from one of his mother’s many books on special and often dangerous potions. Sherlock did not wish to dwell on the origin and cause of these notes and simply read through them. As he had suspected, they confirmed quite a lot, enough in fact that Sherlock deemed it time to leave for Hogwarts as soon as possible.

~

John woke to a peculiar sight. Sherlock had fallen asleep on his desk, using a stack of parchment he had been writing on as a pillow.

“Sherlock,” John smiled and nudged his friend’s shoulder carefully, “doesn’t that hurt?”  
Sherlock straightened up almost instantly, a little bleary eyed at first before focusing, stretching out with his bones making a lot of noise after having been trapped in an awkward posture for too long.

“Late night?” John chuckled.  
“Yes, I received word from my brother.”  
“Mycroft? Well what did he say?”

“I have found out the most likely scenario our madman is trying to achieve.”  
John’s eyes widened at that and he scooted closer, silently urging Sherlock to go on.

“He’s going to try and perform a ritual, an old ritual that hasn’t been used for 17 years. A cultist ritual.” Sherlock explained, a frown marring his face as it always did whenever he mentioned these cultists. John had heard about them, though many refused to speak about what had happened 17 years ago, as if the very mention of it would bring those times of terror back. Sherlock refused to talk about the cultists and John had long since learned to just let it go and don’t push as it would send Sherlock into a sulk and he’d refuse to talk to John for a while.

“But, no one at our school could be cultists? I mean, that was 17 years ago, right?”  
“You don’t need to be a cultist, they might be eradicated, but their goals live on and our man might be insane enough to want their power, maybe even brilliant enough to do it and control it as well. You do not get into this thing without confidence in your abilities, in your willpower and ambition.”

“But what is he planning to do?”  
“It is a summoning ritual, of a manner of Necronomicon creature of some kind… the information on that is a bit vague. But this also reveals further of his plan, not only is he using his victims’ blood for the potion, he can also control them, as if he possesses a switch that he can turn on and off as he pleases. This is probably also how he can keep up pretense and even gets other ingredients he needs; the victim that has been controlled probably doesn’t even remember.”  
“This sounds a lot like one of those unforgivable spells…” John noted quietly. Sherlock nodded before he continued.

“I have reason to believe that he will strike again soon, that he is one of the students still at school. This is why I need to go back there pretty soon, I am thinking of tomorrow.”  
“Oh, you’re leaving?” John felt how his face fell and did his best to hide it.  
“You could come with me,” Sherlock suggested carefully and John looked up quickly with a hopeful smile that died in its birth. The blond shook his head.

“No, I need to be here. With Harry being like this well, I doubt Dad will appreciate it very much if I left.” John managed to catch the flicker of disappointment.

“I understand,” Sherlock said, but John had his suspicions his friend really didn’t. To break the awkward silence that was growing, John got up from bed.  
“Want me to get some sandwiches?”  
“Starving,” Sherlock replied.

 

When John got back to his room, Sherlock had a deep red violin in his lap, its case lying open on top of the trunk.

“You play?” John asked as he closed his door.  
“Obviously, I have it in my hands in a rather familiarized way, don’t you think?”  
“Well, you never said anything about violin playing to me before.”

“We all have our secrets,” Sherlock shrugged and put the violin down carefully and grabbed for one of the sandwiches. They ate in silence, sitting on John’s bed. They had just finished all of the sandwiches when John’s father called for them to come downstairs.

“Probably wants us to have breakfast,” John said as he opened the door, closing it after Sherlock had stepped out holding the plate John had brought.  
“Evidently, but we have already eaten.”  
“Might as well grace them with our presence, right?” John chuckled.

 

“You two already ate?” Daniel arched a brow as Sherlock placed the empty plate on the counter.  
“Yeah, you guys were taking too long,” John exaggerated his words and grinned.  
“Oh, shut up squirt.” Harry rolled her eyes at the table.  
“Harriet, don’t talk like that to your brother.” Their father frowned.

“She will hardly get your message, Mr. Watson, what with the level of intoxication she is still in.” Sherlock said before anyone else could reply. Daniel stared at his son’s friend.  
“W-what?”  
Over at the table Harriet snapped to attention, eyes wide and face draining of color.

“It is rather obvious, what with her movement being reduced, she bends her head to avoid too much contact with the kitchen lights. She has brushed her teeth a multitude of times to get the smell out, but it still lingers on her breath and on her as she only had a time for a short shower before hurrying downstairs to pretend she has had a normal night. Normal for her, I suppose, as she has been doing this for a long time, this time she got a bit more than usual however.“ Sherlock concluded at last.

Daniel had been looking at Sherlock, then at his daughter and back to Sherlock. Without a word he began walking to the stairs, once he began ascending them, Harriet got up as well and ran after him. John stood frozen with a growing look of despair in his eyes.

Sherlock was about to apologize to John for blurting all that out in such an indelicate manner, but both boys jumped as the upstairs simply exploded.

“This was the final straw, Harriet! I am calling that school in this instant.”  
“No, no you can’t do that! Please don’t,” Harriet begged, following her father as he came marching down the stairs. He whipped around and faced her, putting a finger up for emphasis.

“No, YOU promised me, again and again I let you off the hook because you were sorry, you would do better, you would promise. Not ONCE have you listened to me, not ONCE have you let me help you even though I’ve offered countless of times.” He shouted, his hands shaking. Then the anger deflated and John almost wished his father would shout instead, for he had never heard Daniel Watson sound so broken and it was horrible.

“I care about you, Harry, I love you and John so much. Can’t you see that you are hurting us with this, too? I’ve been on the ready for you for all this time, ready to jump in and help whenever you need me, but you push away my hand, you turn your back on my offerings to help. I want what’s BEST for you, Harry, and as I clearly don’t know how to do that I seem to have no other choice…” He turned and walked over to the phone, all the while having Harry on his back begging as if she was begging for her life.

The moment Daniel Watson lifted the phone to his ear and hit the right numbers, Harriet broken down into pitiful sobs.

“Yes, Professor Carlton? This is Daniel Watson; yes I am calling about the enrollment of Harriet Watson.”

Harriet screamed in anger and sorrow and ran past her father, ripped open the door and rushed outside with no shoes or jacket. Daniel wrapped up the details with the professor over the phone quickly and then put on shoes and a jacket.

“I’ll go get her.” He called somberly over his shoulders before following his daughter into the bright outdoors, closing the door behind him. Sherlock turned to John and was dumbstruck by the tears streaking down his friend’s face.

“John…it’s for the best, these people can help your sister.” He tried, hating how he still sounded unsure. John just nodded and sniffed, drawing a shaky breath.  
“Would you… would you like for me to play the violin for you?” Sherlock could hear the desperation in his own voice, but right now all he cared about was “fixing” John.  
John looked up at Sherlock, still sniveling pitifully, he nodded a little confused. But at this point he’d welcome any distraction. 

~

Sherlock placed John in his bed and picked up his violin. He stood in front of the window and looked at his friend who was still drawing shaky breaths on occasion.  
“I only know one song,” Sherlock admitted.  
“Only one?” That sounded a bit strange to john.

“Well, only one on this violin. This instrument is a little special, it’s a magical violin.”  
“Magical?” John parroted, for now his interest was caught. The Ravenclaw nodded.  
“It is one instrument, but it can play the music of an orchestra, it is like recording. You play different scores, even other instruments and the violin will remember it and play it out when you play that particular song, melody, piece.”

“Wow…so… what piece does your violin remember?”  
“My parents had me learn it, the dance of the dead. Dans Macabre.”  
“I don’t know it.”

“You will now,” Sherlock put bow to string and pulled. It sounded off to John at first, before he noticed the chaotic rhythm that eventually settled into a fast paced melody with dramatic effect. It was as if a group of violins were playing at once, accompanied by deep tunes from a piano. John sat in awe as Sherlock played for him; the raven haired boy’s eyes were closed as he moved with the music.

When Sherlock finally finished the piece, John’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes felt dry for being held so wide for so long.

“That was… absolutely amazing! You play brilliantly!”  
Sherlock smiled, relieved. Not because John had enjoyed his playing, but because John was smiling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated and beat read by InsanitysxCreation


	10. A heartbreaking Christmas Finale

When Harriet and her father came back she first ran to the bathroom on Daniel’s order to get warm, then she locked herself in her bedroom, now devoid of anything with alcohol. The dinner was quiet and only interrupted by John informing his father that Sherlock would be going back to school the following morning for a “school project.”

The two boys barely slept that night, instead spending time talking. Well, John talked and Sherlock listened. They eventually fell asleep as the first sign of morning filtered through John’s bedroom window.

When they finally awoke, it was closer to noon, but there was no noise from the kitchen downstairs. The two snuck down as to not disturb anyone. The entire house had a feeling of exhaustion to it and it made John’s throat tighten.

They had a quick breakfast, where John focused on anything other than the fact that Sherlock would be leaving soon. It would be unbearable here then. He swallowed heavily and shuffled his cereal around a bit.

“Good morning, boys,” John’s head snapped up to catch a glimpse of his father as he entered the kitchen and went over to the tea kettle. He looked worn and tired; John lowered his head again.  
“We’re finished, dad, I’ll help Sherlock pack.”  
His father just nodded, keeping his eyes on the kettle.

The two trudged upstairs, but before they reached John’s bedroom, the were blocked by a miserable looking Harriet. She was glaring, but not at John he realized, but at Sherlock.

“You, you’ve ruined my life.” She hissed at the Ravenclaw.  
“I merely stated the obvious. You are ruining your life well enough on your own.” Sherlock stated coldly and John nearly shivered at the tune.

“You, you bloody freak of nature. You dare insult me, you-“  
“Sherlock is not a freak, Harry, calm down. It’s your drinking habits that got you into this, but you can-“

“You shut up, squirt, this is your fault as well!” She pointed at him.  
“Wha- me?” John gaped.

“If it hadn’t been for you, mum wouldn’t have died and there would be no freaks of nature running in and out here. But no, you went and got her killed!” Harry was screaming now and from downstairs they could hear something shatter.

John had not been prepared for this, how could one prepare oneself for things such as this? He simply stared and stared at his angry sister, who now had turned all her rage against him. He wanted to say that their mother had in fact been a witch as well, would Harry call her a freak? But no words came out, only tears. His knees felt wobbly and he was about to sink down to the floor and just cry and cry till his heart stopped hurting or his tears ran dry, but a slender, warm hand stopped him by grabbing his wrist. He snapped his focus up to Sherlock who looked him in the eyes before moving, shoving Harriet aside and marching them into John’s room, followed by slamming the door and locking it. In the safety of his own room, John fell to the bed and broke down.

“John, you don’t need to listen to her, she-“  
“She’s right, I did kill her. Mum wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t given birth to me.” John sobbed into his pillow. Sherlock was silent for a long time, he had no idea how to comfort John, and he had no experience in being comforted or giving comfort. 

“A newborn is incapable of murder.” He stated. John just gave a strangled sound and Sherlock fell into silence again.

Touches from John always made him feel well, maybe touches were the answer. He carefully touched John’s elbow and the sobs stilled somewhat.

“John,” Sherlock said and the blond boy peeked at him. The raven haired boy then tugged gently at his elbow and John sat up slowly, only to be pulled into a light hug. Which was the second thing Sherlock could think of that made him feel well whenever John had given him one.  
The blond relaxed into his friend’s hold and wrapped his own arms around Sherlock, taking comfort from his friend’s presence. Before Sherlock realized what he was doing, the words tumbled out from his lips.

“Come with me back to school.”  
John pulled back and looked at Sherlock, searching for something although Sherlock couldn’t figure out what exactly.  
“Yes.”

~

They packed John’s trunk together, changed to their school uniforms, and draped their cloaks around themselves.

“We’ll be travelling via Floo powder. Your fireplace isn’t exactly built for it, but we’ll manage,” Sherlock explained as they dragged their trunks downstairs.  
“John, bud are you- what are you doing?” Daniel stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his son fully dressed for school, dragging his trunk behind him.

“Dad, I’m going back to school as well.” John said firmly, ignoring the slight tremble he felt. Sherlock just continued to the living room.  
“But John… the holidays…”

“It hasn’t really felt much like a holiday, dad, and I… I think we all need some time for ourselves now, and I’ll be back in the summer and we can do our best then.” Daniel sighed, but had to smile slightly despite himself at his son’s clever words.

“I can understand that, bud, write me alright? I want to hear everything, and I’ll do my best to reply.” Father and son hugged each other tightly.

“Don’t take Harriet’s words to heart, John. She’s angry and hurt right now. Your mother would be so proud of you, she loved you, and somewhere she still loves you. I know that and you must remember it, alright?” John nodded against his father.

In the meantime, Harriet was silently watching from the top of the stairs. She was about to turn away with a huff when a cold dread gripped her and held her in place. She couldn’t move, she wanted to panic but also her lips refused to obey her. A cold whisper slithered through her mind in a voice that wasn’t her own.

 _“If you ever hurt John again, you will suffer plague of the middle ages.”_ the voice hissed in her mind. Her eyes searched frantically for the source of this and her eyes were locked as well when they finally met icy blue ones.

 _“Know that I won’t hesitate, you might be his sister but to me, I have three words that adequately describes you to me.”_ Sherlock wasn’t moving his lips, only staring at her with near murderous intent, it was so intense it made her skin break out in cold sweat.

 _“You. Repel. Me.”_ the otherworldly voice hissed and Sherlock broke contact. Harriet sank to her knees the moment the cold grip released, she still felt chilled to the bone though and shuddered. She glanced at Sherlock and her brother one last time before retreating, her legs feeling heavy and shaky at the same time, as quickly as possible into her room. 

“You two take care now…” Daniel said, standing at a distance. Sherlock had explained the concept of floo powder to them before throwing a handful into the prepped fireplace of the Watson’s, disappearing in a roar of green flames.

“See you in the summer, dad.”  
“See you in the summer, bud.”

John threw the powder and said loud and clear “The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmead.” And was devoured by the same flames that had spirited Sherlock away only moments before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta read by InsanitysxCreation
> 
> a short chapter to wrap up the sad christmas days for the watsons.
> 
> so, it has been ages since i uploaded anything and to tell the truth this chapter was already ready. cause of sudden vanishing act was exams at first (that went well in the end, yay) then hospital drama, medically induced coma and batteling depression symptoms. things have righted themselves and are steadily progressing in a positive manner, but now i am stressing a bit about being unable to start up at uni again so we will see how that goes. 
> 
> However I want to WRITE, i miss it so much. so high chances for new chapters. anyone still reading this?? ^^;

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think!  
> And feel free to suggest original Sherlock stories that can inspire further!


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